The Story Begins
“Some time ago, an awkward little boy happened across a ragged ol toy piano in his closet, buried beneath buckets of Legos, Star Was figurines and Transformers. It was familiar to him, of course; he had spent the first several years of his life furiously plunking down on what were now browned, crusty keys. The top had been pried open many times, no doubt the result of a toddler’s insatiable curiosity to unearth the mysterious innards of this magical contraption. But even then… and even to such a young child… it was apparent that just as carefully as it had been popped open, it had been meticulously closed back up.
It wasn’t long before the boy met a guitar. Unlike the toy piano, he didn’t need to unfurl it to see how it worked; there was already a hole with which to peer inside and he found depths that he didn’t realize he’d be exploring for the rest of his life. The guitar, much like the boy would soon discover about himself, laid its soul out in the open, its heart on its sleeve. Like the boy, the guitar was plucky and bright. It could murmur, it could mumble. It could sing, it could cry. It rang true and it droned deep. It was as though the guitar could do anything he wanted it to. This fascinated the boy.
He had always been a storyteller. He told many tales… tall ones, short ones, bulky ones, lean ones. Dark ones, light ones. He shared his stories with others but more often than not he simply told them to himself. He began to explore his voice, too… finding it loud and sentimental. He discovered how it changed whether he was in his room or in the kitchen or in the bathroom or out in the backyard. How it was different when he was around his parents or when he was at school. How it would transform when he was happy or sad, energetic or sluggish. Words seemed to possess untold depths of magic, seemed to wield a powerful spell that bartered emotions between himself and others. Words held an uncanny ability to convey multiple meanings at once. Telling stories became even more fun.
There would eventually come a time when the little boy discovered that he could combine all these things and they provided a thrill of synthesis, the illusion of creation, and cast the immeasurable glow of harmony. These realizations filled him with a boundless joy and excitement. What other stories could he tell? How could he tell them differently?
A vast ocean lay before him and all he had to do was built a boat.
Not sure exactly how that boy grew up to be me; but here’s the story, anyway…”
2018 Sad Man on a Rock
2010 A Mild Suggestive Moment
2008 Circumstantial Zen
2005 ZOMBO II : Monkey Work
2005 A New Set of Eyes
2004 Sketch of a Contrived Memory
2004 bipolar me